The Letter
by MusicalCatharsis
Summary: Brandon writes a letter to his mom explaining everything. Why they stayed. Why he loves Callie, and finally why they left. Follow him, as he tries to get Stef to accept him and his relationship. Brallie centric.
1. Page 1

Mom,

First of all, I wanted to apologize for not being the perfect son, not now, and not ever. I wanted you to know the reasoning behind this letter, behind my behavior as of late. I, we, wanted you to know why you found two empty beds this morning, instead of five full ones. I wanted you to know that Callie and I are safe, that we are happy, that we are loved. Well, maybe not safe from you, but that's another story entirely isn't it? By the time you read this we hope to be states away, where nobody knows our names, and where nobody knows our story. We hope to start over in a place where we can be together, and be accepted.

For most of my life you spoke of acceptance, of the pain you felt when you and Mama weren't accepted by your peers, by my father, by your father. At one point in your life, your relationship was forbidden too, and that is what kills me the most. It's the fact that you couldn't open your ears for a moment to recognize the hypocrisy spilling from your lips. And I mean no disrespect by that mom. I really don't.

I wasn't being a silly child when I told you at 16, that I loved Callie, and she loved me. I wasn't naive when I told you that nothing could keep us apart, that we would do whatever it took to be together, and I think pretending to not love one another for the better part of two years, is the definition of that statement. And mom, it was hard. It almost killed us both, but it was easier to have her under the same roof as me, than in some house miles away. It was easier to pretend to love Talya, that to not know if Callie was safe. And inwardly, I loved her more and more with each passing day, with each hour, and minute, and second. I realize I was selfish by kissing her when we were 16, I realize I behaved like a spoiled child who couldn't play with his favorite toy. But you, you reacted with such disgust at the mere thought that I could love Callie, making us both feel like you didn't think she was good enough to be with me. And let me tell you, mom, she's the best thing in this world... She's the best thing for me.

Secondly, you do not have to inform anybody of our disappearance, for you are the last to know. Mariana and Jesus have helped us be together for the past two years, with whispered conversations in the kitchen at midnight and the brief kisses on the stairs when nobody was around, nothing so sordid that we would sully your precious Foster name. Jude, while he wasn't happy with us leaving in the beginning, he understands now, knows in his heart that we make each other happy. And mom, I am the happiest I have ever been.

I really wish that it didn't have to be this way, we both wish that you could share in our happiness, that we could share our love with you. And one day we really wish that that can be the case, that one day you can be present at our wedding, and at the birth of our first child. We hope that by that time you can be on board with us as a couple, that you can accept that we love each other, but if you cannot, then as much as it hurts the both of us to think of that sequence of events... We are prepared for you to never come around to us. I really hate that we had to think of that as a possible outcome.

I want you to know that we are not running away to live off of dollar cheeseburgers and harsh coffee in a cheap and falling apart studio apartment. We applied to schools around the country, far enough away from California to know that we could get a fresh start, far enough away from you... And I'm sorry that that statement comes across so harsh, but the truth hurts, that's something you always told me. It is my wish that by the time our freshman year wraps up, and we come home for a visit, you will be on our side, but if that is not the case, Jesus and Mariana will tell us, and we will try again in another year.

I remember telling you that sending Callie to that group home would cause her to distrust you both, and you told me in your motherly fashion, that you knew best, and that I was wrong once again. I hope that at night you sit and think about how you could have handled everything differently, like letting me live with dad, letting us see where this relationship could go. And who knows mom, if you had given us some leeway we would not be together now. So I guess I have you to thank for this wonderful woman in my life, I have you to thank.

You raised me to be a thoughtful, generous, and kind man. You and Mama raised me, to be the kind of man who stands up for what he believes in, who wouldn't be ashamed to stand up and claim his love for the perfectly imperfect foster child you brought into our home. And mom, we tried for so long to ignore the feelings we were having at 16, please believe that we did. Somethings just have that strong of a pull over your heart, your mind, and your soul.

We didn't mean to disappoint you in anyway, and we are sorry that you won't be able to watch us walk across the stage to receive our diplomas next week. We hate to take that from you as well, but I felt it best if we left as soon a possible. For Callie turned 18 two months ago and me four months before her. And still as adults living under your roof, we had to abide by your rules, and we did but we cannot, no I cannot wait to be with her any longer. I need her mom, I love her with everything that is me.

I hope that you can understand where I am coming from, when you look at Mama, and the feeling in your heart swells so much that you feel like you could cry, or die. Or when she is in pain, and all you want to do is take it away from her, to make her feel better if you could. And if you could, imagine what it would feel like if you couldn't be with her, if someone forced you to be apart from her, even stooping so low as a restraining order. Imagine the pain, the hurt, the hatred you would feel. And then mom, only then, would you understand our lives for that last two years.

You broke our hearts mom, and yet we still love you with the shattered pieces. We forgive you, though we don't expect to ever hear an apology.

We hope you are happy in everything that you do. I hope that you can learn to accept us for who we are as individuals and a couple. I just hope...because that's all I have left when it comes to you.

I, we, love you mom.

Sorry it has to be this way,

Your son and his wonderful fiancé

Brandon and Callie.

**A/N: just a little thought bubble that came to me while listening to some music.**


	2. Page 2

Hey mom,

It's so weird that the only way we communicate with each other are through these long handed arguments. Words strung together so eloquently, packed with barbs and punches, I wouldn't have had the guts to say if we were face to face. I can't believe the sheer amount of letters we have sent back and forth to each other, and still with all of my begging and pleading, you turn your back on us. We expected something like this to happen, but it doesn't ease the pain I feel in my heart when I rip open your letters and see your words in your neat penmanship. And it hurts even more when Jesus calls, telling us of everything that is going on back home, things you don't want us to be a part of.

Callie has sat me down and talked some sense into me, she thinks if I extend the invitation to you, if I tell you where we are, where we have been for the last four years... That maybe if you can see my face, see how well we are doing... She thinks a little bit of honesty and trust will do the trick. But how can I tell her that I don't trust you anymore? How can I tell her that my mother is now a stranger to me, the way her father was a stranger to her? How can I break her heart?

The answer is simple: I can't, I won't.

But I will tell you anyway, Callie and I hopped into the beat up car I bought with my savings with all of our belongings, pointed the damn thing east, and didn't stop until we got to Boston, Massachusetts. I attended Berklee College of Music, Callie went to Boston University. We just recently graduated, and are currently back in our car, a newer version of the beater I once had... This time we pointed west and are headed home.

We are going to stop halfway there and I will send this out to you, we are taking our time coming home, because four years is a long time. Four years, no six years is a long time for your own mother to hate you for who you love. Think about that for a second.

When I left your house, I was 18, still a child with a big heart full of love for the girl sleeping across the hall. But I have grown, working two jobs and going to school full time. Paying rent, and bills, and studying until five in the morning when my first class started at eight. Callie worked equally as hard, if not harder, picking up extra shifts so that I could study more, so that I could work on my compositions.

And there were times when the electricity cut out, and we had to eat dinner by candle light because rent in that city is outrageous. But we did it together, we did it with love and minimal arguments.

I remember being so scared two years ago, Callie and I huddled in our tiny bathroom, staring down at a pregnancy test that had just popped up positive. And immediately I heard your voice, and Mama's. "How could you do this? You knew the consequences Brandon..." And I hated what I heard, but I was so happy. Even though together we had a hundred dollars to last us for the next week. Which was a good thing, that's more than we ever had to be honest. At that time all I wanted to do was walk across the hall and talk to you, all I wanted was for you to accept me. To accept us. But it isn't about us any longer.

Didn't you think it funny when the twins decided to come out to Boston for school, or the fact that when you visited them you were so close to us...but we swore them to secrecy. And so the four of us worked out our schedules so that Callie and I could finish school and raise a child. So that Callie could be pregnant working 60 hours a week and going to school. So that we could prove to you and to ourselves that we didn't need you, or your approval.

The only reason we are coming home now is because of our two year old son. His name is Avery Michael Foster, and he was made out of love. And he will be loved by my family. You can choose to hate me, hate my wife, hate my relationship but you will not hate my son, mom. That is something I will not stand for, that is something I will not run from.

And damnit all if Avery doesn't remind me so much of you, in the way he laughs, and the way he talks...I guess Callie and I are more like you than we care to admit. But I know one thing when I look at him my heart is filled with such love and pride that I fear it would burst. And I know you feel that too, I know you do mom.

We are coming home so that you can meet our son, and nothing else. I don't want a hug, I don't want you acceptance, I don't want your love. I just ask that you pretend for him, pretend so that our son doesn't grow up thinking his parents love is wrong. I never thought of you and mama as wrong, and my son will not either.

I'm returning to you a man, in every sense of the word. A father, a husband, a college graduate, a success. And I did it all without your love and support these last four years. I started this letter with the intention of apologizing to you for doing all of these things without you for being selfish once again to steal these joys from your life.

But there is only one thing I am sorry for. I am sorry you were so stubborn that you caused yourself to miss it all. How could you do that? Didn't you know the consequences?

I love you mom, with every inch of my heart, but I don't need your approval or acceptance. I reserve those things for the child that left you at 18. I return at 22, knowing I made the right choices, and it's not my fault you were too blind to see how my life could be. How good my life is.

I'm sorry you missed it mom, I really am.

Brandon

* * *

**A/N: I didn't think I could write Stef's reaction to the same child she had lived with, so I fast forwarded four years, to a man she doesn't know. I can write Stef's reaction to the man her son had become without her influence. **


	3. Page 3

Her slender fingers felt stiff from holding the piece of paper in her hands for so long, her eyes dry from not blinking for what seemed like hours. Her left hand was resting on her mouth, which formed a silent "oh", she was still in her uniform, sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, her mind miles away.

This is how her wife found her, and the concern that covered her face was immediate. Lena reached out her right hand, to pull the piece of paper from her wife, but Stef was in another world entirely, her fingers clamping around the white lined sheet. The resistance from one woman, and the tugging from the other caused a loud rip to be heard across the house. This noise is what sprung Stef into action, tearing the letter into tiny shreds, tossing them each on the floor. She didn't know when she had started to cry she just knew that her face had become wet and her eyesight blurry from the damn tears.

Lena pulled her wife into a hug, holding her graying blonde hair back from her face, as sobs wracked the woman's body. Comforting "shh's" and "it's going to be okay," could be heard if you stood close enough and listened. Lena, the taller woman of the two, was still in the dark about what the piece of paper her wife was holding happened to say, but you could go so far as to hazard a guess that it was heartbreaking. Her mind immediately going to the children, thinking one of them had died. But surely, that wasn't the case, because a phone call would have been more sufficient and equally as heartbreaking.

And so her mind settled on their oldest son and former foster daughter, who four years prior had left in the middle of the night, with her assistance, for the east coast. She knew that Stef and their son had traded harsh words for the better part of four years in the multicolored pages of whatever paper was closest to them when the need arose. Only because of Stef's resistance to believe the two teenagers were actually in love. This act had caused a chasm to open in their family, one Lena was sure would never fully close. There was another gaping hole in Lena's heart, the one cause by her wife's inability to be happy for their oldest son...to just let him and Callie come home with their support and love. Try as Lena might, she just couldn't get her wife to see past the blinding wall of rage, that Brandon and Callie's selfish act at the mere age of 16 had brought upon this family. Looking back on it now, a few kisses, and shouted I love her's from him to them was something so small and insignificant now...

Now that they had not laid eyes on either one of them, in four years.

The slamming of a car door pulls Stef out of her other world, and the blonde woman goes rigid in her wife's hold. Lena looks down and notices the fear running through Stef's eyes, making a mental note to ask her about it later on in the evening. For now, she is sure that their youngest son Jude is about to make his 16 year old self very well known in the household. And much like every other afternoon, he comes barreling through the door, tossing his backpack in the corner and heads straight to the fridge. Lena smiles as he rounds the corner with an apple, already with a bite missing, and he says "hey moms," while chewing and races up the stairs.

Stef had since relaxed enough in her wife's arms for Lena to begin to wrap her mind around the situation. She reaches out with her dark skinned thumb, and brushes away the tears that had collected in the black hollow under her wife's eyes, something that had been there for the better part of four years. They were familiar with sleep deprevation, Stef staring at the cordless phone for hours before passing out into a fitful dream state. Where her son was still home, and Callie was still the foster daughter she never got the chance to adopt.

Lena places a kiss to Stef's forehead, letting her lips linger against her wife's flesh for moments longer than necessary for a chaste kiss. Stef's sigh tells the other woman that this contact, this show of love, is much appreciated. And so Lena does not move her lips from their position until Stef signals that she is ready for the contact to be lost. Stef opens her mouth, once, twice, thrice, and finally on the fourth time she speaks in a whisper echoing a million bad decisions and wrong doings.

"They're coming home." And suddenly Lena understands, the gravity of the situation clicks together in her mind, and then it starts racing. The scenarios, the what ifs, the eventual possibility that her wife may be shocked into a heart attack when she learns that Lena has known all along of Avery. Had even seen him during hasty Skype calls in the dead of the night while Stef slept fitfully in their bed.

And so Lena does the only thing she can think of, she holdes her wife tighter, kissing her again on the forehead, reaffirming everything the first kiss tried to convey. Her eyes traveling to the mantle, to pictures of Brandon and Callie, smiling down at them...

* * *

It was three days later when the doorbell rang. Lena was standing in the kitchen chopping vegetables, the knife paused mid slice, wondering if her wife was home to get the door. After a few moments of silence, she placed the knife down on the cutting block, and grabbed the nearest red checkered hand towel. She took tenative steps to the front door, wiping her hands as she went, heart racing, thumping hard and wildly against her chest wall. Her breath was coming in short pants now, her mind knowing already who was at the door, and so she opened it without bothering to ask who was there.

Lena stepped back, admiring the sight of her oldest son and his wife, the daughter they had wanted to make officially theirs, but never could. And before she could process what she was doing she dropped to her knees, the towel falling to the floor, to stare at the mini version of the two adults standing in her doorstep. She clutched her hand to her mouth, trying desperately to contain the sob that was threatening to rip from her throat at the moment. The little boy was clutching to his father's hand with such intensity, staring back at her with the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen, the sheer size and depth of them, causing her to believe she was looking into both Brandon's and Callie's eyes at the same time, and in a fashion she was.

"Hi Mama." Callie said, her words coming out in a breathy whisper, that sounded nothing like the ex girl who once lived here. She ran her hands nervously through her long curled hair, twirling the end of one strand around her index finger. Her nails were painted a bright red, and the sun was glinting off of the diamond ring she sported on her left ring finger. Lena's hand reached out for her, enveloping her in the hug of a century, pulling her body so close to that of the younger woman. She opened her other arm, inviting her son into the embrace, and he complied without any coaxing.

"Oh, my babies." The words came out in a rushed whisper, her lips automatically kissing their cheeks, her hands itching to get a hold of her grandson. Callie stepped back, bending to pick up her son, making sure he was eye level with Lena. She spoke to him softly, kissing his forehead.  
"Avery, honey, this is your grandmother." She explained to the boy, who had only seen her once or twice through a computer screen. The small boy looked from his mother to the woman smiling down at him gently. Her reached out one small hand and touched her cheek, giggling loudly.

"Gamma!" He yelled loudly, squirming, desperately trying to free himself from his mothers grasp. Callie smiled sheepishly at Lena, passing the boy over in the same motion.

"I'm so glad you two came home." Lena said, her eyes never leaving her grandson.

She turned her back on the couple who was now clutching onto each other, Callie with eyes laced in fear at what lay beyond the threshold. Brandon with his back rigid, and nothing but pride and strength on his face. His mother looked between the two of them, realizing that she had missed it, not only missed them.

She had missed them growing up. She had missed watching her son turn from a boy who ran, to a man who was ready to fight. The realization caused a sadness to creep up on her, slowly trailing it's way up her spine, and so she smiled at the two of them fondly, and welcomed them inside.


	4. Page 4

Stef was thankful that time was creeping slowly past her today. After recieving the news that she was a grandmother and her children were coming home, she had been pulling longer shifts. Volunteering to tackle that mountain of paperwork that she had pushed off onto her rookie partner for the better part of three years. Some of her blonde hair had come loose from the bun she quickly piled at the base of her neck as she was rushing out of the house at four this morning. She had lines forming an almost perfect 'W' when she squinted at the tiny print of her partner's handwriting. The was a migraine pulsating behind her eyes and the only thing she wanted to do now was curl up into her wife's side and sleep for a month.

There was nothing keeping her at the station though, and to be completely honest she would rather be anywhere but here. But the thought of her son, and his wife, and their son...she let the thought trail off, it already being too painful to think about. And in the recess of her mind, which had been littered with the conversations from the last four years, she couldn't remember why she was still so against them. And if she had a valid reason, where in the world did it go? But Stef was angry, and in her mind she was justified, they had broken the rules...the law.

Stef couldn't pinpoint exactly where in her life she had decided to become an officer of the law. It was always her intention to go to law school, but sometimes life doesn't pan out the way you expect it to. Her nose was always in the books in high school, gobbling up information. There was something about useless facts that caught her attention, and she soon found herself desperately researching long outdated laws, wondering what exactly had happened to make that one stick. Sighing she leaned back into her chair at her desk, her hand reaching up to rub the persistent migraine away with no luck. She rested her head in her hands, hunching over the mahogany, and let out an exasperated breath.

Her mind shifting back to 22 years ago, when she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, one who depended on her for everything. One who as he grew, was so quiet, and good natured, and obedient. Stef taught him right from wrong, and her uniform served as a reminder, that rules were made to contain order. Rules were not made to be broken in Stef's house, and the small child would laugh, and smile, and play. But he was respectful, and cleaned up after himself, and never left his toys where they could be stepped on. When it was bedtime he would brush his teeth, kiss him mom on her cheek, and promptly fall asleep after exactly one story. Stef's child loved to follow the rules as well. That was until Callie came along, the young girl igniting a fire in Stef's son, one the older woman was hoping she would never have to deal with.

She saw the beginning of her son turning into a man, with him raising his voice and speaking his mind. Disobedience began to shine through him, but not so much as to get him put into prison, but enough to give his mother headaches. And in particular it was this headache, and it had been with Stef for almost six years now. Her tired eyes glance over at the analog clock, promptly snapping her mind into the future, as she notes that the time is pushing on five o'clock in the afternoon. There was a part of her that didn't want to go home to see her family, that wanted to go find her ex-husband at the bar and drink away their failures together.

Speaking of the man, Stef wondered, if he too, had been in on their child running away with the foster daughter that caught his attention. And Stef wondered, if he too, would soon have the bomb dropped on him that he was a grandfather. Two years, in Stef's opinion, is a long time to hide a human being. It is also a long time to dileberately hide your feelings from your family. And she wonders if she missed anything back then, if she had paid just a bit more attention would she have seen it? Were their stolen glances, and lingering hugs that she chose not to see?

The San Diego police officer wonders where exactly she went wrong in raising her son.

And she wonders how she can still call herself a good police officer, when she was completely, and irrevocably, oblivious to her own damn life.

* * *

Brandon stares intently at his wife, watching the way her chest rises and falls in perfect harmony with his own. He is reminded of just what transpired in this bedroom many years ago, and he couldn't even have imagined then, what his wife would be like today. Callie is curled into his side, in his childhood bedroom, where the couple is trying to catch a few hours of sleep until the twins get here, and Jude gets home...and his mother. His wife's head is resting gently on his chest, her mouth slightly open, her breathing heavy. He didn't think that he could love this woman anymore than he had when he was a teenager, didn't think that he would ever be here in this room, with her in his arms, again anyway. But here they were, cramped onto the twin sized bed where they had made love for the first time, and he knew in his heart that if he loved her anymore, it would surely break.

There are days when he watches her as she is making dinner for him, and their son, and he is so proud of all of her accomplishments. Working, and going to school, and raising a perfect child, and still managing to clean the house and cook them dinner, all while he is out searching for a job to pay for the house he plans to buy her. Because he wants nothing more than to hang the moon for this woman, he wants to give her everything she never had. And he wants nothing more than to get out of their cramped one bedroom apartment in Southy.

Hardwork and determination have led the both of them to the people they have become, and since leaving home they had to learn quickly the price of a dollar, and just exactly how far it would get you. When they left home, they left with the idealistic notion that everything was going to be sunshine and roses. Quickly, they learned that that wasn't the case and the two teenagers adapted to the real world, one as harsh as the winters in New England.

Callie snores, and she does so loudly, this he has known for the better part of six years, but as the sound rips through his thoughts he smiles down at her. Brushing back a piece of her hair that had fallen into her eyes, and kisses her forehead, exhaling on the skin there. He continues to watch her, noticing how her arm has curled around her stomach protectively. Cradling with love what the couple secretly wishes were a little girl.

And as if she can sense him staring at her, she groans a bit and opens her eyes.

"Hey babe." She says, leaning in to kiss him. He accepts her kiss, clutching her face in his hands, and pushing his lips roughly against hers. She has never been more beautiful to him than when she first wakes up. With her hair tousled, her eyelids still heavy with sleep, andlips that are slightly chapped. Add the fact that she has mothered one of his children and if carrying his second, and he doesn't want to keep his hands off of her. She chuckles into the kiss, pushing him back slightly.

"I miss Avery." She continues, swinging her legs off of the side of the bed. When she makes it to the door she freezes with her hand on the doorknob, seemingly caught in the place between a memory and reality. He can clearly see the tears that begin to gather in her eyes, and he is off of the bed and clutching her to him in less that five seconds. She doesn't shed those tears, but instead wipes them away with the back of her hand, much like Avery does.

"What's wrong?" He asks her gently, rubbing small circles on her back. She sniffles, and inhales sharply, already on the verge of a panic attack.

"What if she still doesn't accept us, B?" And he would be lying if he said that the thought hadn't crossed his mind during the three thousand mile drive back here. The thought of his mother looking into his face, and still telling him that she doesn't accept and support his decision, doesn't phase him nearly as much as it used to. The first year away from home tore him up inside literally, with thoughts, and nightmares, of never closing this rift between him and his mother. That she would die, or he would, and there would be so much left unspoken between the two of them. But the day his son was born, he knew in his heart, that it didn't matter if she accepted them anymore, as long as she accepted Avery. And this is what he tells his wife, whose eyes are shining with tears and fear.

* * *

When the couple enters the first floor of the house they grew up in, it seemed too quiet to them. Their son was a rambunctious one, growing up in South Boston would do that to a kid. The boy shouted things he didn't need to, and was always affectionately vying for the attention of those around him. No matter who they were. Callie's heart started to race in her chest, a nausea that wasn't there a few minutes ago sprung to life in her stomach, causing her to south her stomach in pain as they entered the kitchen to find it empty. Brandon immediately searched the backyard, and she frantically entered the living room.

Callie froze in the doorway at the sight before her waiting desperately for her husband to slip behind her, his hand automatically encircling her waist. The couple looked at each other and then back into the living room, waiting patiently for the woman to realize they were there. Callie, realizing that her stubborn oaf of a husband would never make the first move. There were too many harsh sentences, and nights of slamming pots and pans around their kitchen for him to speak to her without prompting. So Callie did what any mother would do, she inhaled deeply, squared her shoulder, and spoke.

"Hi, mom." She said. And the blonde woman who was still in her uniform finally looked up from her grandson, her eyes connecting with those of the younger woman across the room. Stef smiled down at Avery, swiping his hair off of his sleeping face. Lena had fallen asleep on the other side of the couch with her hand gently clasping that of her grandson. Time seemed to stand still as they waited for their matriarch to speak to them. Different scenarios ran through Callie's mind, ones where Stef stood angrily clutching her son, and telling them all to get the hell out of her house because they were no longer welcome here. The fear clutched at the younger woman's heart, causing bile to rise to the back of her throat, stinging her every so slightly. But she feared for nothing because when Stef finally spoke she only said three words.

"He's so beautiful." Brandon huffed, desperately controlling himself from strolling across the room and snatching his son out from his mother's grasp.

"Hello to you too mother." He spoke through a harsh exhale from flared nostrils. "It's good to see you." And if you paid attention you could see the sadness that flickered through his eyes as he actually spoke to her for the first time in four years. You could see the disappointment that flashed through his face at the realization that they once again were proven right. His mother would never approve of them, and for some reason it stung just as hard today as it did six years ago.

* * *

A/N: First of all, I want to thank everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed. It's amazing the show of support I am getting. Secondly, I want to let you all know, in a case you missed it, that I wrote a two shot prequel to this story. Named I Will Fall, it has a bit of backstory to different feelings, people, events, moments, and songs that will be referenced in this story. In no way do you have to read that to read this, but you should check it out. Also, if you want to see a more mature role of David Lambert's go check out The lifeguard. It's different and very indie, and you get to see his bum. So...


	5. Page 5

**To Farrah (Guest): I am offended that you are offended. I have only compared the relationships twice. Once on how Stef felt when no one would accept her relationship with Lena, especially her dad because he thought it wrong. And secondly I compared how deep the mother and son feel for their significant others. Nowhere in my story do I compare Braille's struggles to that of same sex couples. And never would I compare the trials of foster siblings falling in love to those faced by same sex couples, that would be both insensitive and ignorant of me. Both examples of comparison were based solely on FEELINGS. Thank you for reading, I hope you continue to do so, have a wonderful day.**

* * *

Tensions were high behind his front door, this Jude knew before he even got out of his car. There was a red Jeep Grand Cherokee parked in front of the house, bags were strewn in the trunk, water bottles and food wrappers littered the floor of the passenger seat, but what caught his attention the most was the car seat. Jude knew of his nephew, the almost two year old who was the spitting image of his parents, and his heart began to race out of fear. Gone now, was the thoughts that his moms were going to toss him out on his ass because of some asinine thing his sister had done, or was about to do. Gone, then, were the days of hoarding food, not knowing when his next meal was going to be. But not gone, was the small amount of hatred in his heart, the amount he held for his sister, and her husband. For, why did she get to go off and make this happy life without him? Was he that disposable to her...

He didn't know how long he stood there, staring at their red car, with the Massachusetts license plates, but he soon realized that he was not alone. She still smelt the same, and her body felt the same when she enveloped him into a warm hug. Her lips were still smooth when pressed to the skin of his forehead, and her voice came out in the same whisper when she spoke his name. He had a song running through his head, one line, "I'm moving to Manhattan, and I'm never looking back, never looking back." It was all that he heard when she spoke to him, and try as he might he could not comprehend the words that were spewing from his sister's mouth.

And so they stood, with her speaking to him with an urgent frequency and her arms flailing every which way, and him with MoZella lyrics running through his mind. He stopped, when he finally looked at her, her appearance causing his heart to speed up, and his palms to sweat. It was only when he saw her mouth the words I'm sorry that the sounds came rushing back to him, causing him to double over seemingly in pain. And much like when they were children, she rushed to him, halting...feelings hurt when he pushed his palm out to her. He stood, doubled over, catching his breath for several moments before he finally looked at her.

"Callie?" He asked, the words coming out in a rushed whisper of disbelief. She nodded her head, the curls she sported earlier were pulled back into a pony tail now, her face had thinned out some, gone were the chubby cheeks and the sad eyes. His sister stood before him, a woman. One so strikingly beautiful he had to pause a moment. It was then that his body chose to jump into action, gathering his older sister in a bear hug, letting the tears fall freely down his face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, "you just look so much like mom." And with those words, the brother and sister stood on the front lawn, crying into each other's arms for a mother long lost, but not long forgotten.

* * *

Stef sat in her living room, the couch still the same as it was four years ago, and yesterday when she fell into an exaustion fueled slumber. But today, it felt lumpy, and out of place. Standing before her was a man she barely recognized, one who had her son's name, and his face, and his mannerisms, but he didn't belong to her. She watched her son play Legos on the floor with his son, and watched as his eyes kept darting to the bay window. Wondering what in the world was keeping his wife and brother so long?

The man before Stef reminded her so much of herself, and very much of her wife. He was a fearless protector, this you could tell from the way he angled his son into the corner, shielding him from whatever could possibly attack. In the way he slid his hands around his wife's waist as she was just beginning to feel threatened. From the way he looked at his own mother, eyes shining with defiance and, dare she even think it, a splash of hatred. But underneath the harsh exterior of the alpha male, Stef could tell that her son still cried when he was feeling overwhelmed. She could also tell that between the two, Callie was the Lena, but he took on that role from time to time. His movements were soft and gentle, and when he touched his son the contact looked like whispers on skin. Stef could tell that the three of them were driven by love.

And even sitting in her living room, witnessing first hand, the love her son had created when he was 16, she could still not wrap her mind around it. The blonde woman, could not for the life of her, get the thought out of her mind, that their relationship was wrong on more levels that one. But what of the law, she would silently ask herself, and she would respond that they had technically not broken any. And what of the abuse, she would ask next, but Stef knew without a doubt that there was none. And what of...but she was out of questions.

The officer's attention was snapped in the direction of her front door as soon as it swung open, revealing the two faces that had come crashing into their lives six years ago. Each with a tear streaked path. Brandon was off the floor in a second, with a gentle but firm, 'Avery, stay put' he soon wrapped his arms around Callie, pulling her into his chest and away from Jude's.

Stef silently watched the exchange between the couple, as her son placed his forehead against Callie's, inquiring what was wrong. She witnessed the sagging of his shoulders as he morphed from the protective husband, to the caring one instead. And watched still as he wrapped his arms so lovingly around Callie, kissing the top of her head, and rubbing circles on her back.

And that interaction got Stef to thinking about the times she would find them in the backyard when they were teenagers. What Stef thought then was just a simple hug, was actually a brilliant display of love. The emotion shined so bright in everything the two did for each other, and especially in their child. Her grandchild.

The thought still caused her heart to skip a couple of beats, and her mind to shut down, and her breath to quicken. But there on the floor, playing with Jesus' old Legos, was her grandson. Her own flesh and blood. And she would be blind if she didn't admit that he was the most breathtaking child she had ever seen, including her own. She could admit to herself that this child was the better parts of his parents, and that he knew nothing of the wrong doings in his past. In his parents past. And her heart seemed to stop when Avery looked up at her, smiling with a missing front tooth, and held up a Lego.

"Gamma, wanna play?" The small boy asked, and Stef couldn't help the sob that escaped from between her lips. She nodded, placing herself in the exact position her son had left.

"I'm sorry I made you sad, Gamma." Avery continued, seeing his grandmother's tears. He crawled over to her, placing his tiny hands under her eyes, to wipe away the moisture there. He then kissed her on the forehead, and Stef's heart melted, how in the world could she think that the love that made this precious child was wrong?

"Daddy does that for Mommy when she is sad." Avery had gone back to playing with his toys, and Stef was still crying, and Jude was eating an apple, and Brandon was holding Callie, and Lena was chopping vegetables. All as if nothing had transpired in this corner. And so Stef didn't call their attention to it, choosing instead to build a castle with her grandson, and promptly demolish it, with sound effects and dramatic movements, and Stef laughed at the thought of the Legos that would be lost for months to come.

* * *

Dinner was a silent affair in the Adams Foster household. Forks could be heard scraping against plates as everyone ate the lasagna Lena had prepared specially for the night. Avery was busying shoving food into his mouth with an uncanny precision, not a single drop of the meal could be found on his bib. By precision it simply meant that he got the food everywhere, besides his mouth, or body. Callie smiled sheepishly.

"I'm sorry about that. I will clean it up once he's done." She said, effectively breaking the silence. Her eyes bounced between the two older women at the table, to exactly sure who to take her cues from any longer. Lena smiled at her, chewing her food, while Stef kept placing forkfuls into her mouth.

"It's fine, Callie. He's our grand baby." Lena responded and the younger woman nodded her head before picking up her glass of water and taking a rather large sip. The silence in the room was making her rather uncomfortable because she knew that this wasn't how dinners around here went, ever. There was always someone talking, usually more than one conversation going, and you had to pay close attention or else you get sucked in and you don't know to which conversation you belonged in the first place.

In the back of Callie's mind, she knew that she ought to say something to break the ice. She knew her role in this family was permanent, if the ring on her finger, the change in last name, or the children she was producing had anything to say in the matter. But the thought of starting the conversation terrified her to no end. But once again, the only way to get her husband and his mother to begin speaking again was to cause a commotion, so she inhaled a deep breath and spoke.

"I'm sorry, mom...Stef, for stealing everything from you." And with that she got out of her chair, to start cleaning the mess Avery had caused. She heard the forks clatter to their plates, and she heard her husband's annoyed huff of breath. And then they spoke at the same time.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Brandon said. Pushing his chair back.

"You didn't steal everything, just my son." Stef replied. Callie paused in cleaning the floor around her son, to see the interactions between her mother in law and her husband. Brandon was standing in the doorway tot he kitchen, one hand on his hip, the other running through his hair. Stef was sitting in her sets, her mug of tea lifted to her lips.

"She didn't force me to run away with her, I decided to leave with her. Why can't you see that?" Callie continued to clean Avery's high chair, before lifting him out of the seat, and settling the two of them down in the living room before crayons and coloring pages.

"What I can't see is why you decided to throw your life away?" Stef replied, Callie reached out to flip through a few pages in the book before settling on one her and her son could scribble on together.

"I didn't throw my life away, mom. I'm happy. I'm married. I have a wonderful son. I graduated from university, I have a good job waiting for me should I choose to take it. Callie does as well." She could clearly see him pacing the length of the kitchen now, with each step and word he spoke, his hands were moving erratically, the anger evident on his face. "Why isn't that enough for you? Why aren't you happy that I'm happy?" The son stopped asking his mother for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Because you deserve better." The mother replied.

"Better than what? A wife who loves me unconditionally, a son who is so intelligent and he isn't even two yet? It can't get any better than those two." Brandon spoke evenly. "But you're right mom, I do deserve better. I deserve a mother who loves me no matter my choices in life. Who loves my family, no matter how I got them." He continued before kissing Lena on the cheek and turning into the living room.

"She's not good enough for you." Stef continued, though she clearly didn't know why. Callie went rigid on the floor of the living room. From her position she could clearly see the anger radiating off of her husband. There was a look in his eyes, that scared her for the first time since she told him of Liam. She motioned him over to her, and he complied, before sitting on the all too lumpy couch. Slowly she stood, making her way back into the kitchen. Tears threatened to fall down her face, but for the sake of her son, Callie held it together. She could clearly see her brother standing at the top of the stairs with his mouth open.

"Am I not good e-en-ough, momma." Avery spoke into the harsh silence. The tears fell freely now, as Callie pressed a kiss to the top of her sons head.

"You're more than good enough, my sweet boy." She said to him, watching as he smiled up at her. Raising her eyes from her son to those of her mother in law, she parroted the words back in perfect harmony. "You're not disposable, Callie. You're not worthless. Except when it comes to your son." And with that, Callie disappeared up to the second floor of the house she used to call home, passing her brother on the stairs.

In the back of her mind, she knew that she had asked for this, choosing today to start the conversation.

"I love you, momma. And daddy loves you too." Her son said, before closing his eyes against her chest.

"I love you too, Avery."

* * *

A/N: I'm not the best when it comes to dialogue, but I tried, because I had to progress the story just a bit. thank you all for the reviews, and the favorites and follows. I appreciate it.


	6. Page 6

Brandon sat with his legs splayed open, elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. The anger was very evident on his face, and the entire situation made the young man so nauseous. He could clearly hear the scraping of wood against the floor in the kitchen and the angry clanging of dishes against one another. But the sounds fell on seemingly deaf ears. For the young mans mind was thousands of miles away, in a cramped one bedroom apartment, where his son had never even thought to ask if he was good enough.

The father shook with anger at the thought that he caused this somehow, that he was the reason his wife was having to explain this fucked up situation to their almost two year old son. And that thought pissed him off further, causing him to emit a low growl of anger at his mother. At the situation she had thrown them in when she uttered the words "she's not good enough for you."

And that one sentence couldn't be further from the truth, if anything Brandon wasn't good enough for Callie. He was the one that pushed his feelings onto her, knowing the trouble it would cause. Knowing that there was only two endings to the tragic situation they had precariously found themselves in. But they both knowingly chose the path that led them to each other, to happiness. He let out the breath he had seemed to be holding for the last twenty minutes, lifting his head, and slapping his hands on his knees. His mother stood across from him, an apology formed on the tip of her tongue, but the man held up his hand before she could speak.

"Not now, mom." He spoke, sounding years older than he should, defeated even. "Callie, Avery, and I are going to go stay in a hotel. Since we clearly still aren't welcome here." He stood on shaky legs, brushed past his mother and up the stairs to his childhood bedroom. There he found his wife clutching their sleeping son to her chest in the middle of his bed. She nodded her head, brushing Avery's hair from his forehead, and smiled sadly at him.

"I packed our bags already." She spoke. Knowing him so well, that she could anticipate the fact that he wouldn't want to stay here a moment longer than they needed to. He sighed, kissing both members of his tiny family, and moving to pick up their luggage including Avery's small suitcase of toys.

"I'm sorry." His wife called once his back was turned to her. He sighed, placing their luggage at his feet, before crawling onto the bed and clutching his wife and son to his chest.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." He said while kissing her forehead.

"She's the one that should be sorry, because you're more than good enough for me. It's me that's not good enough for you."

* * *

Jesus and Mariana pulled their rented Honda Civic to a stop behind the red car they all schlepped in back in Massachusetts, wondering how things were going behind the wooden door of their childhood home. From where they were parked they could see Brandon and Callie, and their gorgeous nephew Avery in the living room. Brandon had Lena gathered into a hug, while Jude was clutching Callie and Avery to his chest. Mariana turned her head to Jesus, and let out a sigh, before picking her purse up off of the passenger seat floor, and climbing out of the car.

"This isn't going to be good." She said to her twin brother, looping her arms into his and approaching their home. With each step forward the dread settled deeper and deeper over her. Mariana could plainly see the anger on her older brothers face, and the sadness that had washed over a once hopeful Callie. She paused, staring into her home from the front porch, already rethinking her decision to give the newlywed couple the okay to return home. Clearly she could see now, that that was not the right decision and the guilt crept up on her, grabbing a hold of her subconscious. The twins entered their childhood home unannounced and unnoticed. It was only when Jesus cleared his throat that the harsh whispers between their mother and brother stopped.

"Uncle Hey-Juice!" Yelled Avery, wiggling himself out of his father's grasp to run over to his other favorite person. Jesus leaned down to wrap his arms around the small child, pressing a kiss quickly to his cheek.

"What's up little man?" Jesus said, while standing with Avery now on his shoulders. The small child shrugged.

"Aunt Mari, hi." He then spoke, the laughter leaving his voice as he noticed his parents still whispering with his grandmothers.

"What's the matter, Ave?" Mariana asked her nephew, reaching up to pluck the child from his dangerously high height. Avery in turn snuggled into his aunt's grasp, wrapping his small arms around her neck.

"Gamma said that we weren't good." He spoke, tears already filling his hazel eyes. "Mommy and daddy always tell me that I'm good. Gamma played Legos with me. Then she told me I was not good. Why?" Avery asked his aunt, looking into her dark brown eyes with such sadness. His bottom lip jutted out, and before Mariana knew what was happening the boy was sobbing into her arms. Callie reached out for him, but Mariana had already taken Avery into the kitchen for a glass of chocolate milk, and just one cookie.

"This is what I didn't want to happen." Brandon spoke to Callie, turning his back on his mother. Callie nodded to her husband, her heart breaking at the sight of her child crying. In their six years together Callie had taken a back seat, glad for once to have someone to fight her battles for her. Glad to be able to wear her heart on her sleeve, but looking at her son cry the way Jude used to do, lit a fire in her that she had long since exhausted. The young woman pulled her hair back into a pony tail, turning her back on the other inhabitants of the room, and closed her eyes. She had always been one to think before she spoke, even if she never thought before she acted. As impulsivity led her to the greatest things she had ever had the pleasure to call her own. But this, this was too far...even for the subdued Callie. She turned back to her family.

"My son is crying because he feels like he is not good. He feels like he is not good enough for you Stef. When we told him he was coming to meet his grandmother, and that she would love him no matter what, he was so excited. He talked about you for weeks leading up to our journey here. And we had the discussion with him that no matter what anybody said, he came from love. That Brandon and I loved each other and him enough to drown out all the bad in the world. We told him that he was good, that he was the best thing to ever come in our lives. And with one sentence you shattered that in our son.

"How dare you? He's a child, one that loves you even though he never met you. Who decided he wanted to be a police officer to be just like you. Because he thought you were good enough. I love your son, so much, and I always have. I may have been the foster child who came to you from Juvie, I may have run away breaking your heart, I may have declined to be adopted and hurt your feelings..." Callie said, her voice getting higher with each sentence she uttered, she stepped closer to her mother in law.

"But that does not, ever, give you a reason to take your frustrations from me, out on my son. He is an innocent who has done nothing to you, but shower you with love. Wether you like it or not Stef, Brandon and I are married, we have a child, we have one more on the way, and we are moving back to California.

"It was easy enough to ignore us when we were thousands of miles away, but sooner or later, you're going to have to accept us. And it's going to take a lot to get back in our good graces. But I won't ever, keep you from seeing your grandchildren. I may not be good enough in your eyes, but I'm woman enough to know when I'd be doing something stupid, and childish, and hurtful to other people." Callie huffed, walking out of the living room and out of the front door, slamming it shut behind her. She ran back in a few minutes later, a look of sheer panic on her face.

"Brandon." She called weakly, the fight completely gone from her body now.

Her arms had encircled her body, clutching at her stomach, her eyes were wide with fear. Brandon was immediately at her side, calling out for Jesus to call an ambulance, and when he decided that that would take too long he crouched down and lifted his wife with ease. He settled her into the back seat of their car, before calling out to Mariana to watch Avery, and speeding off down the street.

"Don't worry, Callie. Everything is going to be okay." He said to her, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I promise."

* * *

A/N: You all were so great with reviews today, and it's my day off. So I was sitting around doing laundry and decided to get a head start on filling in the timeline for chapter six. I want to thank you all so much for your continued support. For those of you who read Happily Ever After, that will be updated within the next few days. I've hit a snafoo with how I want to reach the last arc of the story. So bare with me please. Happy reading. I've rambled enough.


	7. Page 7

Once again Brandon found himself pacing frantically in the bustling waiting room of the San Diego Hospital. His hair was sticking up every which way, and his eyes were swollen and red from unshed tears. He kept nervously twisting his wedding band on his finger, ten times to the right, ten times to the left, and then repeating the process. The young husband and father was so nervous, his heart was beating rapidly, almost straight out of his chest. He sat in the nearest chair, his jiggling leg a large indicator of the anxiousness coursing through his body. He had been this way since the love of his life had disappeared behind the double doors on the metal gurney. Nobody had returned to give him an update, causing his mind to wander, settling in the darkest recesses of worst case scenarios.

Their family had waltzed into the waiting room an hour previous, automatically demanding updates from him. Questions to which he had no answers. And the thought pained him so. He say with his head in his hands, refusing to let the tears fall down his face freely, cursing himself at each year that slipped through with every blink. His eyes took in the small green converse sneakers that entered his point of view. Brandon quickly wiped at his eyes, smiling sadly at his son.

Avery's eyes looked deeply into his father's, and with a small huff, the small child climbed into his father's lap. The youngest Foster turned his head to stare at his father, as then looked at the rest of his family.

"I know it hurts daddy, like when I hurted my knee, but momma...she's gonna be okay. Cause she's my momma" the small boy whispered, touching his small hands to the older man's cheeks. He nodded his head, his light brown curls bouncing with the motion, and smiled at his father.

"Thanks Avery." Brandon replied, moving the flop of curls off of his sons head, and placing a gentle kiss there. "Daddy really needed to hear that." The older man continued, smiling fondly down at his son.

Brandon stood quickly once he saw the doctor that escorted Callie behind the double doors, return to the waiting room. He clutched his son to his chest, drawing his strength from the small child. His heart seemed to stop beating in his chest when he saw the doctor pull his scrub cap from his head, wringing it in both his hands, and exhaling before making his way over to Brandon and Avery.

If you paid attention to the dynamics of the family that had dominated the waiting room, you could see the palpable tension. Mike had come at the prompting of his ex-wife, and was standing off to the side talking to his fiancé when the doctor approached his son. Stef was currently walking back and forth before the vending machines, debating wether or not to get something from them or punch the glass in. Lena was grasping Jude tightly to her chest, silently comforting the teenager while crying hot tears of her own. The twins were whispering to each other in the corner in Spanish, Mariana was constantly reapplying her mascara, to replace the makeup she was crying off.

None of them were prepared for the scream that ripped from the man clutching his son a few feet away. They never would have imagined the reverberating sound his knees would make when they hit the tiled floor. Nobody would have thought to describe the heartbreaking scene before them. Brandon wasn't aware that he was causing a scene, and even if he was aware, he wouldn't have cared in the first place.

* * *

A week later found the small diverse family sitting in the living room. Avery had long since been put down for a nap, the day's activities wore the small child down. Brandon sat with a glass of scotch held in his right hand, the young man was sipping it slowly. Wincing with each sip he took. He looked across the room at his mother, who was sitting there sipping a glass of red wine. He sighed, slipping the tumbler onto the table, before standing and stripping off his sports coat, and tossing it onto the couch behind him. His hands fell into place on his hips, itching to place them around. his wife's small waist.

Brandon couldn't stop the steady flow of tears that cascaded from his eyes now, sobs rolling through his body. Shaking loose in him the pain that he had tried to bottle up for the last week. Finally feeling what he had only felt in the privacy of his bedroom or in the bathroom with the shower turned to full blast. He let himself cry the tears that had been threatening to spill over since he picked himself up off of the hospital floor, and walked out into the California sun.

Lena slipped her arms around her oldest son, holding him to her, much like she frequently holds his mother, and let the young man cry out his frustration at the unfairness of a life lost. She did not try to calm her son, letting him self soothe, because deep down she knew that nothing she could say would ease the pain in his heart. Her eyes sought out those of her wife, scolding her with just one look, because in this room, the blame could only be placed on one person. If Stef hadn't been so childish, so crass and hasty in her declaration that Callie wasn't good enough for their son. Then their grandson wouldn't have asked if he was good enough, and in turn Callie wouldn't have gotten so worked up.

Stef stared into her wife's eyes, recoiling inwardly at the sheer anger she saw there. Instantly hating herself for putting her family in this hellish situation. Never did she think she was going to have to mourn for the loss of a family member so soon. She stood in her heels, maneuvering herself around the strewn toys, to stand before her son. She knelt down to him, reaching out to him, to smooth his hair down. Her heart broke when he flinched away from her, his green eyes snapping to look into her own.

"Don't." He hissed. "She would still be here if it weren't for you." He continued. Brandon pulled himself out of his mother's grasp, before standing on his shaky legs.

"I don't know if I can ever forgive you for this." He whispered into the darkness, before climbing the stairs slowly, his thoughts racing a mile a minute around him.

* * *

Brandon stood with his hand on his bedroom doorknob, silently debating wether or not to go into the room. He took in a deep breath, before turning the knob and entering the dimly lit bedroom. He stood inside the bedroom, undressing himself silently, before sitting at the keyboard his wife had set back up in the corner. He slipped his headphones onto his head, glancing over his shoulder at the pack and play that held his sleeping son.

Slowly his fingers caressed the black and white keys, letting himself remember the first time he ever made love to his wife on this very bench. And with each key he played, he remembered bits and pieces of the life they built together, tidbits he had forgotten over the years. The young father let his tears flow freely now, his heart constricting as his mind settled on the hospital scene last week.

He thought back to the two years they pretended to not care about each other, a wasted two years now if he ever thought of one. Two years that they could have been loving each other, and making love. Two years sooner that they could have had Avery, two fuckig years without her...

He let the thoughts float away with the end of his song, letting his mind settle on nothing but the soft breathing of what was left of his family behind him. Grateful for what he had left but still horrified at what he had lost and terrified as to what was to come next. He reached forward and turned off his keyboard sighing heavily.

Brandon stood, crossing his bedroom to climb into his bed.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm so sorry." He repeated moving closer to the sleeping form of his wife, his arms curling around her middle. Palms splayed flat on her stomach that would no loner be growing with his second child, his daughter. Callie turned around in the bed, cuddling deeper into her husbands chest. He could tell she had cried herself to sleep and his heart broke for her, and himself, and for their son. Whom they had yet to break the news of his unborn sisters passing.

"I love you, Callie." He spoke pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'm going to make this up to you." He promised her before clutching his wife closer still to his body and falling asleep.


	8. Page 8

My sweet child,

I will never get the chance to hold you in my arms and rock you to sleep. I will never get the chance to look into your eyes, or kiss you goodnight. I won't see your first steps, or hear your first word, or feel your hand in mine. I will never get to see you graduate, go off to college, get married, and have babies of your own.

I will never get the chance, because you never got a chance.

* * *

Callie put the blue ball point pen that she had rummaged through seven boxes to find before closing her journal with a teary blink. For weeks now she had been penning letters to the child she never got to hold, or hear the heartbeat of. For the child who was loved immensely since the moment the stick turned positive…for the child she never got to have.

Remorse clouded her every sense these days. From choosing the house with the tire swing in the backyard, over the one with the bay window in the small corner bedroom. For, she immediately imagined her baby girl's bedroom, decked out in hues of pinks and purples. The young woman had long since chopped off her hair, needing a change after the loss of her second child. From the moment she walked out of the hospital that dreary Tuesday, she knew that things in her life needed to change. And so, Callie set forth in making these life decisions, with only her small family's interest at heart.

It had been three months since she had spoken to her mother-in-law, reverting back to secret Skype conversations with Lena, through the telephoto lens of her newly acquired iPad. She threw herself into unpacking and decorating their new home, the one that Brandon was originally going to buy her back on the east coast.

That was the first decision Callie had made, choosing to remain in California, instead of slinking back to the side of the country they had hidden on for the last four years. The young woman, with the blunt bob, had decided to stay in her home state, and remind her husband's family exactly what they were missing out on.

Callie had stared at the small purple journal she had taken to writing her letters to her unborn daughter in, for what seemed like the better part of an hour when she heard the door swing open. The peals of laughter coming from her son's mouth caused a smile to burst on her face, as she stood, hastily wiping her eyes as she went to envelope him in a hug.

The small child jumped into his mother's arms, wrapping his around her neck, and placing a wet kiss to her cheek.

"Hello, little man." Callie said, kissing Avery on the forehead.

"Hi, mama." The boy replied, his hazel eyes shining at his mother. He squirmed, a sure signal that he wanted to be let down. Callie obliged and placed her son on the floor. Where he immediately took off for his bedroom, only looking behind him once, to make sure his mother was following him. The young woman laughed, and called out a hello to her husband who was just entering the living room.

"Avery, I wanted to see your mother too!" Brandon called up the stairs, feigning anger. Avery laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and said.

"When you snooze, you snooze, daddy." And went back into his bedroom, this time dragging his mother by the hand, and closing his bedroom door behind him.

* * *

Stef was known by many people in her community. To some she was the fearless woman protector, who jumped in front of a gun to save a small boy during an armed robbery. To others she was the hard but fair mom to countless children. To few she was the woman with whom she shared her deepest secrets. But to her family, and though they loved her dearly, right now Stef was Enemy #1, signed, decreed, declared.

There was this feeling Stef was experiencing, something she hadn't felt for a long while, emptiness. A horrid hollow feeling had settled upon her the night her wife didn't kiss her good night, or good morning the following day. That lasted a few days until Stef had finally had enough, she wasn't going to lose her wife as well as her children, and her grandchildren. And the plural of the word caused a sadness to overtake her heart, gripping it tightly, almost to the point where she could scream, or cry, or both.

But Stef knew, even in the deepest recesses of her heart, that there had to be redemption for her.

Forgiveness. The word caused a sob to escape from the woman who was currently seated in the waiting area of a private psychologist. The cop was dressed in plain clothes, clutching a wallet and keys in her hands, and sobbing. She ignored the stares she was recieving from the other inhabitants of the waiting area. Maybe they weren't as fucked up as she was right now, but they were all here because they needed help.

Redemption. Stef chanted in her head. She was here for redemption, a chance at seeing her son smile again, at seeing the other children he and Callie would grace their family with. But most of all she wanted to see Avery. To apologize to him. Stef realized in the end, no matter how she felt, her grandson was the priority now. He came first. And that small boy needed to know that Stef loved him.

But redemption is a long road littered with car accidents, and slips and trips and falls. It's missed phone calls, and unopened letters. It's harsh words, slammed doors, and speeding away. It's tears of anger, hatred, and maybe joy. It's an emotional roller coaster, one the woman had to ride on her own right now.

There was one thing Stef had to do before she could embark on her journey, and that was accept her son's relationship.

Suffice it to say, even after all that had happened, Stef wasn't ready to do that yet.

* * *

**A/N: It is short, I know. But please don't shoot me. I have valid excuses for my absence, and let's be honest, this time I wasn't gone for almost two years. First and foremost, I am getting married in exactly one month! Yay. Secondly, I was going through some very personal things. Things that are better kept in the recesses of my mind, and so I sat down and wrote this out. In actually it's been in scattered pieces all over my google drive, and I slapped them together. **

**For some reason, I as a female, cannot seem to get Callie's character right in this story. I think I've turned her into something soft, something that we all know she isn't. So for the next few chapters, she is going to go hard, and fight back against Stef tooth and nail. Stef on the other hand is going to be battling for redemption, and forgiveness. At the end of this story, everything will be realigned. And god, do I freaking talk a lot. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. See you in the next installment. (:**


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